My mother's curiosity also got the better of her as she tilted her head slightly, her brows drawing together. "Alright, then, mister art critic." She began, her tone tinged with both amusement and a hint of nervousness. "What part of my body are you planning to praise?"
I reclined myself back on the sofa slightly, crossing one leg over the other as I let a small smirk play on my lips. "Guess." I said simply, folding my hands together.
She narrowed her eyes at me, trying to gauge where this was going. After a moment of thought, she gestured down to her legs, which peeked out slightly from under the blanket. "It's probably my legs, isn't it? Men always seem to have this thing for long legs." She adjusted the blanket slightly, revealing more of her slender calves, as if to emphasise her point.
For a moment, I couldn't help but take in the sight. Her legs were, for lack of a better word, stunning.
Long, elegant, and toned with a natural grace, they looked like they belonged to someone who could walk down a runway without missing a beat. The faint sheen of her skin under the soft lighting only added to their allure, making them appear almost ethereal.
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "Tempting..." I admitted. "...But no, I'm not going to talk about them."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but growing wary. "No? Then...Oh, wait. Is it my nape?" She instinctively touched the back of her neck, her fingers brushing the soft skin there. The movement shifted her hair slightly, exposing the curve of her nape—a place so simple yet so mesmerising.
Her nape had a quiet elegance, a softness that seemed almost delicate. The curve of her neck was framed perfectly by the cascading locks of her hair, which fell just slightly over her shoulders.
It wasn't something ostentatious, but it carried a charm that was impossible to ignore, like the understated beauty of a sculpture carved with meticulous care.
"I only recently learnt that's something men apparently go crazy over." She added with a hint of exasperation, as if baffled by the very idea. "This is it, isn't it?"
I shook my head again, the smirk on my face deepening.
"Your legs? Your nape?...Too easy." I said dismissively, waving a hand. "They're parts of your body that serve non-lustful purposes—walking, supporting your frame, even just being elegant in a gown. Describing them in a respectful way would be far too simple....I'm going for a challenge."
Her head tilted slightly, her brows furrowing as she processed my words. "A...challenge?" She repeated slowly, her voice tinged with skepticism. "What kind of challenge are we talking about here?"
I leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with her as my tone lowered just a fraction.
"I'm going to focus on a part of your body that's probably the object of desire for most men in the world. Something that's often reduced to nothing more than a symbol of lust and indulgence. It's the hardest to speak of in a respectful way because society constantly ties it to something sultry."
"...But I'll prove to you that it can be done."
Her posture stiffened at my declaration, her grip tightening on the blanket draped across her lap.
For a moment, there was only the faint sound of the movie playing in the background. Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the gears turning in her mind.
She was trying to keep up her composure, but the tension in the air made it impossible for her to ignore the direction this conversation was taking.
She cleared her throat lightly, her voice a little shakier than before. "And...W-What part of my body are we talking about here?" She asked, her tone laced with both curiosity and apprehension. "The way you're talking about it makes it sound...Well, a bit dangerous."
Her gaze flicked to mine, and I didn't waver.
Instead, I gave her a small, enigmatic smile that only deepened the unease in her expression, and I didn't answer immediately, letting the suspense linger just a little longer, drawing out her anticipation.
Then, without a word, I shifted my gaze from her face down to her curvy, deliberately slow, like a predator narrowing in on its target.
My mother's breath hitched audibly as she recognised this familiar movement she saw just a moment ago. She froze, her entire body tensing as her mind scrambled to piece together where my eyes had landed.
But the weight of my gaze made it all too clear. Her own eyes widened as she followed my line of sight, her heart sinking when she realised that the place I was looking at was her bountiful chest that looked like it was begging to be ripped out of her sweater because of how tightly it was compressed in there.
Her blush deepened to a vivid red as she immediately crossed her arms over herself, trying to shield her figure from my view.
"No!" My mother exclaimed in a panic, her voice shaky and high-pitched. "No, no, no. There's no way a son should ever...ever talk about his mother's...breasts!" She practically squeaked the last word, her embarrassment hitting a peak as she glanced at me with an incredulous look in her eyes.
I didn't flinch, my expression calm and purposeful. "That's the whole point of this bet, Mom." I replied smoothly. "Right now, I'm not looking at you as my mother. I'm looking at you as a woman."
Her mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to form words, but nothing coherent came out. She hugged herself tighter, her fingers digging into the sleeves of her sweater as though trying to steady her spiralling emotions. "That's -" She began, but her voice faltered, her gaze darting around the room in search of an escape. "That's still...This is..."
"It's the bet." I interjected, cutting through her flustered rambling. "I warned you, didn't I? I told you there might be moments when I'd say or do things that might put you off. That's the nature of what you agreed to." My tone was steady, with just the right touch of seriousness to make my point sink in.
She blinked at me, her blush still prominent but her expression turning conflicted. I could tell she wanted to argue, to push back against my words, but she couldn't. Deep down, she knew I was right.
She had set the rules of this bet herself.
"And if you keep reacting like this..." I continued, leaning back slightly and crossing my arms. "...then we might as well call the bet off right now." My voice softened, almost teasing. "But that also means you'll never know what I think of you."
She blinked slightly at my words, and I caught the faint flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "Call it off?" She repeated, almost in disbelief.
I nodded. "If you can't handle this, there's no point in continuing. You're the one who said you wanted to see how I treat a woman, right?...Well, this is part of it."
My mother's face remained flushed, and I could see the storm of emotions playing across her features as she stared down at the blanket in her lap.
She was having an internal battle; that much was obvious. Her hands gripped the fabric tightly, her thumbs brushing back and forth in a restless rhythm.
For once, she didn't shoot back with a witty retort or teasing jab. Instead, her silence lingered, and I waited, knowing she was processing.
I played with the cushion by my side, my expression calm but expectant, as if daring her to make the decision. "What's wrong, Mom?" I finally asked, breaking the silence. "Having second thoughts?"
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, conflicted yet determined. "It's not that." She muttered softly, almost to herself. "It's just..." She trailed off again, her gaze dropping.
I didn't push her. I knew this was her battle to fight, and I wasn't about to interrupt her train of thought.
In her mind, she weighed the situation carefully.
The very idea of her son, her precious boy, talking about her voluptuous breasts—it flustered her beyond belief. But then, another thought crept in, one that made her heart clench.
She wanted to win this bet...Desperately.
Bringing me back home to be with the rest of the family wasn't just about her. It was about uniting everyone again, about mending the years we'd spent apart.
The stakes were too high to let something as silly as embarrassment stop her.
And then there was the other reason.
One she didn't want to admit, even to herself. For the first time in her life, she found herself questioning her appearance.
Was she really as beautiful as everyone always said? Or had she simply gotten used to hearing empty compliments from people who barely mattered to her?
My opinion...It mattered in a way no one's ever did. If anyone could give her an honest answer, it was me.
She then let out a quiet sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she made her decision.
'I'll just take this as one for the team.' She thought, steeling herself. 'It's just words. Silly words from my son. I can handle this.'
Finally, she raised her head, a coy smile tugging at the corners of her lips, though the blush still painted her cheeks.
"So..." She began, her tone lighter now, though there was a teasing edge to it. "Are you just going to talk about my chest, or do I get the whole package?..Because if you're going to critique me, you'd better not leave anything out."
I blinked at her for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle.
"Of course not." I replied quickly, the confidence in my voice unshaken. "I'm not about to half-ass this. We're talking full coverage here. Chest, face, legs, the way you carry yourself—everything. You'll get praise, bit by bit. Just not all at once." I leaned forward slightly, my smirk growing. "Consider it a gradual revelation of all the ways I admire you."
Her brow twitched at my words, though there was no mistaking the intrigue in her eyes. She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms over her chest—not protectively this time, but more as a way to regain some composure.
"You're ridiculous, you know that, Luca?" She muttered, though there was no bite to her tone. "These ideas of yours, I swear..."
"What can I say? I've got to pull out a few extreme tricks out of my hat if I'm ever going to have a chance of making my own mother look at me like a man." I shrugged, a wide smile spreading across my face.
"Fine. Go ahead." Her lips quirked into a small smile despite herself, and she let out a soft laugh. "But don't think for a second that I'm letting this slide without scolding you later."
I chuckled at her attempt to regain control of the situation.
"I'm looking forward to it, Mom." I replied, my voice light and teasing.
She may think she's ready for this, but we'll see just how unshakeable she really is after everything that is going to happen tonight...